The Apologia and Florida of Apuleius of Madaura.

by Lucius Apuleius.

PREFACE

For the purposes of this translation I have used Helm's text of the _Apologia_, and Van der Vliet's text of the _Florida_. Both texts are published by the firm of Teubner, to whom I am indebted for permission to use their publications as the basis of this work. Divergences from the text are indicated in the footnotes, and I have made a few, perhaps unnecessary, expurgations. For the elucidation of the magical portions of the _Apologia_ I am specially indebted to Abt's commentary (_Apologie des Apuleius_, Giessen, 1906). I also owe much to the articles on Apuleius in Schanz's _Geschichte der romischen Litteratur_, and in Pauly-Wissowa's _Real-Encyclopadie_, and to Hildebrand's commentary on the works of Apuleius (Leipzig, 1842).

H.E. BUTLER.

INTRODUCTION

Our authorities for the life of Apuleius are in the main the _Apologia_, the _Florida_, and the last book of the _Metamorphoses_.

He has a pa.s.sion for taking his audience into his confidence, and as a result it is not hard to reconstruct a considerable portion of his life. He was a native of Madaura, the modern Mdaurusch, a Numidian town loftily situated above the valley of the Medjerda. The town was a flourishing Roman colony (_Apol._ 24), and the family of Apuleius was among the wealthiest and most important of the town. His father attained to the position of _duumvir_, the highest munic.i.p.al office (_Apol._ loc. cit.), and left his son the considerable fortune of 2,000,000 sesterces (20,000). As to the date of Apuleius' birth there is some uncertainty. But as he was the fellow student (_Florida_ 16) at Rome of Aemilia.n.u.s Strabo (consul 156 A.D.), and was considerably younger than his wife Pudentilla, whom he married about 155 A.D., when she had 'barely pa.s.sed the age of forty' (_Apol._ 89), the estimate which places his birth about 125 A.D. cannot be far wrong. His name is generally given as Lucius Apuleius, though the only authority for the _praenomen_ is the evidence of late MSS., and it is not improbable that the origin of the name is to be found in the curious identification of himself with Lucius, the hero of the _Metamorphoses_ (xi. 27). At an early age the young Apuleius was sent to school at Carthage (_Florida_ 18), whence on attaining to manhood he proceeded to complete his education at Athens (_Florida_ loc. cit.). There he studied philosophy, rhetoric, geometry, music, and poetry (_Florida_ 20), and laid the foundations of that encyclopaedic, if superficial knowledge, which in after years he so delighted to parade. On leaving Athens he set forth on lengthy travels, in the course of which he spent a large portion of his patrimony (_Apol._ 23). He speaks of the temple of Hera at Samos as an eyewitness (_Florida_ 15), and elsewhere mentions a visit to Hierapolis in Phrygia (_de mundo_ 17). Returning from the East he came to Corinth, where--if we may accept his identification of himself with the Lucius of the _Metamorphoses_--he fell into the clutches of the priests of Isis, who played upon his emotional and superst.i.tious temperament to their hearts' content. He was first initiated into the mysteries of Isis (_Metamorph._ xi. 23, 24). A few days after this auspicious event the G.o.ddess appeared to him in a vision and bade him set forth homewards. He therefore took ship for Rome, where for the s.p.a.ce of a year he dwelt, a fervent worshipper at the temple of Isis on the Campus Martius. Once more visions of the night began to afflict him; he consulted the priests and discovered the cause; he required yet to be initiated into the mysteries of Osiris. The priests of Corinth had worked upon his credulity to such good effect, that he found himself in serious financial difficulties, but by practising as a lawyer he succeeded in making a sufficient income to provide more than adequately for the expenses of this fresh initiation (_Metamorph._ xi. 28, 30). While at Rome he made the acquaintance of Aemilia.n.u.s Strabo and Scipio Orfitus, men of distinguished position, whom he was to meet again when their official career brought them to Africa as proconsuls of that province (_Florida_ 16, 17).

At last he returned home, and it was probably at this period of his career that he wrote his famous novel, the _Metamorphoses_ or _Golden a.s.s_.[1] It is based on the lost work of a certain Lucius of Patras, of which we have another version in the [Greek: Loukios e onos], falsely attributed to Lucian. He enlarged the original by the free insertion of sensational or humorous stories of the kind popularized later by the _Decameron_ of Boccaccio, above all by the insertion of the beautiful fairy-tale of Cupid and Psyche. And then at the end comes the curious personal note, where Lucius, a Greek at the outset of the romance, becomes strangely transformed into a native of Madaura.

[Footnote 1: See Introd. to my translation of _Metamorphoses_.]

But he did not settle down in his native town. After a time he visited Alexandria, and it was in the course of his return from the capital of Egypt that the crisis in his life occurred, to which we owe that remarkable human doc.u.ment, the _Apologia_. For on his homeward journey he fell sick at Oea, the modern Tripoli.[2] In this town there dwelt a wealthy lady, named Aemilia Pudentilla, the widow of Sicinius Amicus, by whom she had two sons, Sicinius Pontia.n.u.s and his younger brother, Sicinius Pudens. Pontia.n.u.s was already the friend of Apuleius; he had made his acquaintance at Athens; an intimacy had sprung up between them, and they had lived together in the same lodgings. Hearing, therefore, of Apuleius' sickness, he called on him at the house of their mutual friends the Appii, where he was lodging. The reasons for Pontia.n.u.s' visit were somewhat remarkable. His grandfather had been anxious that Pudentilla should take a second husband in the person of his son and her brother-in-law, Sicinius Clarus, and with this end in view threatened to exclude her sons, whose guardian he was, from the possession of any of their father's property, if she married elsewhere. She therefore suffered herself to be betrothed to Sicinius Clarus, 'a boorish and decrepit old man,' but put off the marriage, until her father-in-law's death released her from all embarra.s.sment.

Pontia.n.u.s and Pudens succeeded to the property, and Pudentilla felt herself free to take a husband of her own choice. She informed her sons of her intentions. Pontia.n.u.s approved, but since the property left to himself and Pudens by their grandfather was small, and all his expectations of wealth depended on the ultimate inheritance of his mother's fortune (4,000,000 sesterces = 40,000), he was most anxious that his mother should marry an honest man who might reasonably be expected to treat his step-sons fairly. At this point, in the very nick of time, Apuleius was detained at Oea. Pontia.n.u.s saw in him a heaven-sent step-father, and it was with this in his mind that he called upon Apuleius. He did not declare his intentions at once. He contented himself at first with dissuading Apuleius from pursuing his journey homeward till the next winter came round, and persuaded him to come and stay in his mother's house. Apuleius accepted his offer and their old intimacy revived. At last a suitable occasion offered for the declaration of Pontia.n.u.s' wishes. Apuleius had given a public lecture at Oea. His audience broke into frenzied applause and begged Apuleius to become a citizen of their town.

[Footnote 2: See _Apol._ 68 sqq.]

When the audience were gone, Pontia.n.u.s took Apuleius aside and, saying that the popular enthusiasm was a sign from heaven, begged Apuleius to marry Pudentilla. After much deliberation Apuleius consented, though the lady was neither fair to view nor young. She had been a widow for more than thirteen years, and was now over forty. Soon, however, he began to love Pudentilla for her own sake; her virtues and intelligence won his heart and overcame his desire for further travel.

The marriage was duly solemnized. But it brought Apuleius no peace.

Sicinius Aemilia.n.u.s, another brother of her first husband, and Herennius Rufinus, the disreputable father-in-law of Pontia.n.u.s, were both up in arms. Rufinus had hoped, through his son-in-law, to reap a rich harvest from Pudentilla's fortune; Aemilia.n.u.s resented the treatment of his brother, Sicinius Clarus. They sought, therefore, how they might have their revenge. Their first step was to win Pontia.n.u.s and Pudens to their side. This they succeeded in doing, in spite of the generous treatment accorded by Apuleius to his step-sons.

Pontia.n.u.s fell sick and died before they could carry out their designs. He had, moreover, repented of his baseness to his former friend, though death prevented him from showing what his repentance was worth. Pudens, however, was completely under the thumb of Aemilia.n.u.s and Rufinus, and a number of more or less serious charges were brought against Apuleius in his name.

He was accused of having won the heart of Pudentilla by sorcery, of being a man of immoral life, and of having married his elderly bride solely for the sake of her money. The trial took place at Sabrata (_Apol._ 59), the modern Zowara, lying on the coast some sixty miles west of Oea. The case was tried by the proconsul himself, Claudius Maximus. The date cannot be precisely fixed. But Claudius Maximus was probably proconsul at some time between the years 155-158 A.D. (see note on _Apol._ 1), at any rate not later than 161 A.D., since Antoninus Pius is mentioned as the reigning princeps (died March 161 A.D.). Apuleius had no difficulty in disposing of the charges brought against him, and incidentally found an opportunity for a flamboyant display of the learning of which he was so proud. He may well on occasion have practised magic: his insatiable curiosity must a.s.suredly have led him to experiment in this direction, and his subsequent reputation confirms these suspicions. But the specific charges of magic on this occasion were frivolous and absurd. In the first portion of the speech Apuleius plays with his accusers, mocking them from the heights of his superior learning. In the second portion, where he defends his marriage with Pudentilla and justifies his dealings with his step-sons, he clears himself in good earnest, nay does more than clear himself. For he unveils in the most merciless fashion the villany of his accusers--the base ingrat.i.tude of Pudens, and the unspeakable turpitude of Rufinus.

That Apuleius was acquitted cannot be doubted. His case speaks for itself. But it is noteworthy that we hear of him no more at Oea, where he had resided for three years at the time of the trial. This distressing family quarrel must have caused some bitterness of feeling, and Augustine (_Ep._ 138. 19) mentions a quarrel with the inhabitants of Oea on the question of the erection of a statue in his honour. These facts may not improbably have led him to seek residence elsewhere. Be this as it may, when we next hear of him he is in Carthage, enjoying the highest renown as philosopher, poet, and rhetorician. It was during this residence at Carthage that he delivered the flamboyant orations of which fragments have been preserved to us in the _Florida_. A few of these excerpts can be dated. The seventeenth is written during the proconsulate of Scipio Orfitus in 163-164 A.D. The ninth contains a panegyric of the proconsul Severia.n.u.s, who must have held office some time during the joint reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, 161-169 A.D. (see note, p. 236). The sixteenth refers to Aemilia.n.u.s Strabo, who was consul in 156 A.D. and had not yet become proconsul of Africa. As the interval between holding the consulate and the proconsulate was from ten to thirteen years, this fragment may be dated, if not before 166, at any rate before 169 A.D.

Apuleius won more than mere applause. Carthage decreed a statue in his honour (_Florida_ 16), and conferred on him the chief-priesthood of the province. This office ent.i.tled its holder to the first place in the provincial council, and was the highest honour that the province could bestow (_Florida_ 16). Civil office he never held (Augustine, _Ep._ 138. 19), perhaps never sought. His genius, it may be said with confidence, was far from fitting him for judicial or administrative functions. If we may trust Apollinaris Sidonius (_Ep._ II. 10. 5), Pudentilla showed herself a model wife by the pa.s.sionate interest she took in her husband's work. 'Pudentilla was for Apuleius what Marcia was for Hortensius, Terentia for Cicero, Calpurnia for Piso, Rusticiana for Symmachus: these n.o.ble women held the lamp while their husbands read and meditated!' It is even possible that she bore him a son, as the second book of the _de Platone_ is dedicated to 'my son Faustinus'. Of his death we know nothing. Testimony as to his appearance is conflicting. His accusers (_Apol._ 4) charge him with being a 'handsome philosopher'. He replies that his body is worn by the fatigues of study and his hair as tangled as a lump of tow!

His works were astonishingly numerous. Beside those already mentioned there have come down to us two books on the life and philosophy of Plato,[3] a highly rhetorical treatise on the 'Demon of Socrates', and a free translation of the pseudo-Aristotelian treatise 'on the Universe', though Apuleius is regrettably far from making due acknowledgement of his debt to the original. None of these works can be described as interesting, though the treatise on the 'Demon of Socrates' contains some characteristic purple pa.s.sages.

[Footnote 3: He regarded Plato as his master above all others. We find _Platonicus_ attached to him as an honorific t.i.tle in the MSS.]

It would, however, scarcely be an exaggeration to say that more of Apuleius' works have perished than survived. He has told us in the _Florida_ (20) that he has written dialogues, hymns, music, history, and satire. And we have copious references to works from his pen, that, perhaps fortunately, no longer exist. Beside the three poems which survive in the _Apologia_ and a translation of a pa.s.sage of Menander, preserved in a ma.n.u.script once at Beauvais, but now lost (Baehrens, _Poet. Lat. Min._ 4, p. 104), he mentions a hymn to Aesculapius, written both in Latin and Greek (_Florida_ 18), and a panegyric in verse on the virtues of Scipio Orfitus (_Florida_ 17). He wrote also another novel ent.i.tled _Hermagoras_, a collection of famous love-stories of the past, sundry 'histories', a translation of the _Phaedo_, and numerous scientific works, dealing with problems of mathematics, music, astronomy, medicine, botany, and zoology.

The glory won by Apuleius during his lifetime survived after his death. Augustine knows his works well. He recognizes his importance as a writer, but abhors him as a magician. Apuleius is a thaumaturge against whom the faithful need to be warned. 'The enemies of Christianity,' says Augustine (_Ep._ 138), 'venture to place Apuleius and Apollonius of Tyana on the same or even a higher level than Christ.' But in the same letter he speaks of him as a 'great orator'

whose fame still lives among his fellow countrymen of Africa. Above all the _Golden a.s.s_ has kept his name alive to our own day. Even those who know nothing of the work as a whole, or who would relegate it to obscurity for its occasional gross indecency, know and love the story of Cupid and Psyche, if not in the original at least in many a work of art, and in the pages of La Fontaine, Walter Pater, or William Morris.

As might be expected from one who left so few themes untouched, Apuleius is one of the most superficial of ancient writers. It has been well said of him by M. Paul Monceaux, 'Apulee est un de ces esprits encyclopediques, apres a la curee de toutes les connaissances, qui se rencontrent au commencement et a la fin des civilisations.' For the acquisition of his extraordinary reputation he needed an age and an audience in which learning and literature alike were decadent, though far from forgotten. He has none of the scientific spirit. He does not really understand the authors he quotes; he has no critical spirit, and his own investigations are prompted by indiscriminate curiosity. But he has vast stores of miscellaneous knowledge such as might delight the half-educated, and as a rhetorician he possesses a strange and debased brilliance, fired by an astonishing if disorderly imagination. The verve, the humour, and above all the welter of warmth and colour that characterize the _Golden a.s.s_ make us forgive the palpable degradation of the Latin language. Not less remarkable is the _Apologia_. There are few speeches of antiquity that give such a vivid impression of the character of the author and of the life of the society in which he moved. The style, it is true, is often bombastic and affected, many of the arguments are almost more puerile and absurd than the accusations, while the intense conceit and complacency of the author often make him ridiculous. A man of wide and varied knowledge, he has no depth of intellect. He is always half charlatan, and the reader is rarely free from the impression that he is taking liberties with the uncertain taste and ignorance of his provincial audience. But even the weaknesses of style and argument have their charm for the modern reader. For, if he never entirely fails to laugh with Apuleius, he certainly indulges in many a hearty laugh at him.

The _Florida_ are no less superficial and bombastic, and the vanity of Apuleius is revealed even more remarkably than in the _Apologia_. But they are never long enough to be tedious, and contain much that is amusing, be the humour unconscious or intentional; and even if we can rarely give whole-hearted admiration to the style, we cannot but marvel at its dexterity, while its very _bizarrerie_ is not without its charm.

This is hardly the place for a disquisition upon African Latin. It is sufficient here to say that the two main features of the style of Apuleius are its archaism and its extreme floridity. It has been a.s.serted that this strange style is of purely African growth,[4] and that it owes much of its oriental wealth of colour to the Semitic element that must still have formed so large a proportion of the population of Africa. But there seems little really to support this view; it is probable that, allowing for the personal factor, in this case exceptionally important, and the eccentricities to which Apuleius' erudition may have led him, we are confronted with no more than an exaggerated revival of the Asiatic style of oratory. No doubt the seed fell on good ground, but it is impossible to set one's finger on any definitely African element.[5]

[Footnote 4: For a vivacious exposition of this view cf. Monceaux, _Les Africains_. Paris, 1894.]

[Footnote 5: See the chapter on Apuleius in Norden's admirable work, _Die antike Kunstprosa_, Leipzig, 1898.]

The style presents grave difficulties to the translator. The English language will not carry the requisite amount of bombast; the a.s.sonances and the puns are generally incapable of reproduction. Even when this allowance has been made, it is in many cases impossible to give anything approximating to a translation in natural English. I can only trust that the English of this translation has not wholly lost the colour to which Apuleius owes so much of his charm. The sacrifice is not so great in these works as it must necessarily be in any English translation of the more exotic and more brilliant-hued _Metamorphoses_, better known as _The Golden a.s.s_. But in any case the cooler tints and sobriety of our native language must--even in hands less unskilled than mine--fail to do justice to the fantastic Latin of the original. The vivacity of French coupled with the richness and warmth of Italian would need to be combined to produce anything approaching a really good translation, even of the least fantastic works of Apuleius.

THE APOLOGIA

1. For my part, Maximus Claudius, and you, gentlemen who sit beside him on the bench, I regarded it as a foregone conclusion that Sicinius Aemilia.n.u.s would for sheer lack of any real ground for accusation cram his indictment with mere vulgar abuse; for the old rascal is notorious for his unscrupulous audacity, and, further, launched forth on his task of bringing me to trial in your court before he had given a thought to the line his prosecution should pursue. Now while the most innocent of men may be the victim of false accusation, only the criminal can have his guilt brought home to him. It is this thought that gives me special confidence, but I have further ground for self-congratulation in the fact that I have you for my judge on an occasion when it is my privilege to have the opportunity of clearing philosophy of the aspersions cast upon her by the uninstructed and of proving my own innocence. Nevertheless these false charges are on the face of them serious enough, and the suddenness with which they have been improvised makes them the more difficult to refute. For you will remember that it is only four or five days since his advocates of malice prepense attacked me with slanderous accusations, and began to charge me with practice of the black art and with the murder of my step-son Pontia.n.u.s. I was at the moment totally unprepared for such a charge, and was occupied in defending an action brought by the brothers Granius against my wife, Pudentilla. I perceived that these charges were brought forward not so much in a serious spirit as to gratify my opponents' taste for wanton slander. I therefore straightway challenged them, not once only, but frequently and emphatically, to proceed with their accusation. The result was that Aemilia.n.u.s, perceiving that you, Maximus, not to speak of others, were strongly moved by what had occurred, and that his words had created a serious scandal, began to be alarmed and to seek for some safe refuge from the consequences of his rashness.

2. Therefore as soon as he was compelled to set his name to the indictment, he conveniently forgot Pontia.n.u.s, his own brother's son, of whose death he had been continually accusing me only a few days previously. He made absolutely no mention of the death of his young kinsman[6]; he abandoned this most serious charge, but--to avoid the appearance of having totally abandoned his mendacious accusations--he selected, as the sole support of his indictment, the charge of magic--a charge with which it is easy to create a prejudice against the accused, but which it is hard to prove. Even that he had not the courage to do openly in his own person, but a day later presented the indictment in the name of my step-son, Sicinius Pudens, a mere boy, adding that he appeared as his representative. This is a new method.

He attacks me through the agency of a third person, whose tender age he employs to shield his unworthy self against a charge of false accusation. You, Maximus, with great acuteness saw through his designs and ordered him to renew his original accusation in person. In spite of his promise to comply, he cannot be induced to come to close quarters, but actually defies your authority and continues to skirmish at long range with his false accusations. He persistently shirks the perilous task of a direct attack, and perseveres in his a.s.sumption of the safe role of the accuser's legal representative. As a result, even before the case came into court, the real nature of the accusation became obvious to the meanest understanding. The man who invented the charge and was the first to utter it had not the courage to take the responsibility for it. Moreover the man in question is Sicinius Aemilia.n.u.s, who, if he had discovered any true charge against me, would scarcely have been so backward in accusing a stranger of so many serious crimes, seeing that he falsely a.s.serted his own uncle's will to be a forgery although he knew it to be genuine: indeed he maintained this a.s.sertion with such obstinate violence, that even after that distinguished senator, Lollius Urbicus, in accordance with the decision of the distinguished consulars, his a.s.sessors, had declared the will to be genuine and duly proven, he continued--such was his mad fury--in defiance of the award given by the voice of that most distinguished citizen, to a.s.sert with oaths that the will was a forgery. It was only with difficulty that Lollius Urbicus refrained from making him suffer for it.

[Footnote 6: I conjecture: _de morte cognati adolescentis subito tacens tanti criminis descriptione dest.i.tit, ne tamen omnino desistere calumnia magiam, &c._]

3. I rely, Maximus, on your sense of justice and on my own innocence, but I hope that in this trial also we shall hear the voice of Lollius raised impulsively in my defence; for Aemilia.n.u.s is deliberately accusing a man whom he knows to be innocent, a course which comes the more easy to him, since, as I have told you, he has already been convicted of lying in a most important case, heard before the Prefect of the city. Just as a good man studiously avoids the repet.i.tion of a sin once committed, so men of depraved character repeat their past offence with increased confidence, and, I may add, the more often they do so, the more openly they display their impudence. For honour is like a garment; the older it gets, the more carelessly it is worn. I think it my duty, therefore, in the interest of my own honour, to refute all my opponent's slanders before I come to the actual indictment itself. For I am pleading not merely my own cause, but that of philosophy as well, philosophy, whose grandeur is such that she resents even the slightest slur cast upon her perfection as though it were the most serious accusation. Knowing this, Aemilia.n.u.s' advocates, only a short time ago, poured forth with all their usual loquacity a flood of drivelling accusations, many of which were specially invented for the purpose of blackening my character, while the remainder were such general charges as the uninstructed are in the habit of levelling at philosophers. It is true that we may regard these accusations as mere interested vapourings, bought at a price and uttered to prove their shamelessness worthy of its hire. It is a recognized practice on the part of professional accusers to let out the venom of their tongues to another's hurt; nevertheless, if only in my own interest, I must briefly refute these slanders, lest I, whose most earnest endeavour it is to avoid incurring the slightest spot or blemish to my fair fame, should seem, by pa.s.sing over some of their more ridiculous charges, to have tacitly admitted their truth, rather than to have treated them with silent contempt. For a man who has any sense of honour or self-respect must needs--such at least is my opinion--feel annoyed when he is thus abused, however falsely. Even those whose conscience reproaches them with some crime, are strongly moved to anger, when men speak ill of them, although they have been accustomed to such ill report ever since they became evildoers. And even though others say naught of their crimes, they are conscious enough that such charges may at any time deservedly be brought against them. It is therefore doubly vexatious to the good and innocent man when charges are undeservedly brought against him which he might with justice bring against others. For his ears are unused and strange to ill report, and he is so accustomed to hear himself praised that insult is more than he can bear. If, however, I seem to be anxious to rebut charges which are merely frivolous and foolish, the blame must be laid at the door of those, to whom such accusations, in spite of their triviality, can only bring disgrace. I am not to blame. Ridiculous as these charges may be, their refutation cannot but do me honour.

4. To begin then, only a short while ago, at the commencement of the indictment, you heard them say, 'He, whom we accuse in your court, is a philosopher of the most elegant appearance and a master of eloquence not merely in Latin but also in Greek!' What a d.a.m.ning insinuation!

Unless I am mistaken, those were the very words with which Tannonius Pudens, whom no one could accuse of being a master of eloquence, began the indictment. I wish that these serious reproaches of beauty and eloquence had been true. It would have been easy to answer in the words, with which Homer makes Paris reply to Hector:--

[Greek: ou toi apoblet' esti theon erikudea dora hossa ken autoi dosin, hekon d' ouk an tis heloito].--

which I may interpret thus: 'The most glorious gifts of the G.o.ds are in no wise to be despised; but the things which they are wont to give are withheld from many that would gladly possess them.' Such would have been my reply. I should have added that philosophers are not forbidden to possess a handsome face. Pythagoras, the first to take the name of 'philosopher', was the handsomest man of his day. Zeno also, the ancient philosopher of Velia, who was the first to discover that most ingenious device of refuting hypotheses by the method of self-inconsistency, that same Zeno was--so Plato a.s.serts--by far the most striking in appearance of all the men of his generation. It is further recorded of many other philosophers that they were comely of countenance and added fresh charm to their personal beauty by their beauty of character. But such a defence is, as I have already said, far from me. Not only has nature given me but a commonplace appearance, but continued literary labour has swept away such charm as my person ever possessed, has reduced me to a lean habit of body, sucked away all the freshness of life, destroyed my complexion and impaired my vigour. As to my hair, which they with unblushing mendacity declare I have allowed to grow long as an enhancement to my personal attractions, you can judge of its elegance and beauty. As you see, it is tangled, twisted and unkempt like a lump of tow, s.h.a.ggy and irregular in length, so knotted and matted that the tangle is past the art of man to unravel. This is due not to mere carelessness in the tiring of my hair, but to the fact that I never so much as comb or part it. I think this is a sufficient refutation of the accusations concerning my hair which they hurl against me as though it were a capital charge.

5. As to my eloquence--if only eloquence were mine--it would be small matter either for wonder or envy if I, who from my earliest years to the present moment have devoted myself with all my powers to the sole study of literature and for this spurned all other pleasures, had sought to win eloquence to be mine with toil such as few or none have ever expended, ceasing neither night nor day, to the neglect and impairment of my bodily health. But my opponents need fear nothing from my eloquence. If I have made any real advance therein, it is my aspirations rather than my attainments on which I must base my claim.

Certainly if the aphorism said to occur in the poems of Statius Caecilius be true, that innocence is eloquence itself, to that extent I may lay claim to eloquence and boast that I yield to none. For on that a.s.sumption what living man could be more eloquent than myself? I have never even harboured in my thoughts anything to which I should fear to give utterance. Nay, my eloquence is consummate, for I have ever held all sin in abomination; I have the highest oratory at my command, for I have uttered no word, I have done no deed, of which I need fear to discourse in public. I will begin therefore to discourse of those verses of mine, which they have produced as though they were something of which I ought to be ashamed. You must have noticed the laughter with which I showed my annoyance at the absurd and illiterate manner in which they recited them.

6. They began by reading one of my _jeux d'esprit_, a brief letter in verse, addressed to a certain Calpurnia.n.u.s on the subject of a tooth-powder. When Calpurnia.n.u.s produced my letter as evidence against me, his desire to do me a hurt blinded him to the fact that if anything in the letter could be urged as a reproach against me, he shared in that reproach. For the verses testify to the fact that he had asked me to send him the wherewithal to clean his teeth:

_Good morrow! friend Calpurnia.n.u.s, take The salutation these swift verses make.

Wherewith I send, responsive to thy call, A powder rare to cleanse thy teeth withal.

This delicate dust of Arab spices fine With ivory sheen shall make thy mouth to shine, Shall smooth the swollen gums and sweep away The relics of the feast of yesterday.

So shall no foulness, no dark smirch be seen, If laughter show thy teeth their lips between._

I ask you, what is there in these verses that is disgusting in point either of matter or of manner? What is there that a philosopher should be ashamed to own? Unless indeed I am to blame for sending a powder made of Arabian spices to Calpurnia.n.u.s, for whom it would be more suitable that he should

_Polish his teeth and ruddy gums_,

as Catullus says, after the filthy fashion in vogue among the Iberians.

7. I saw a short while back that some of you could scarcely restrain your laughter, when our orator treated these views of mine on the cleansing of the teeth as a matter for savage denunciation, and condemned my administration of a tooth-powder with fiercer indignation than has ever been shown in condemning the administration of a poison.